


ronin-san

by dopekanna



Series: Naruto AU Week 2021 [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Crossdressing, M/M, Not Beta Read, Samurai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29355816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dopekanna/pseuds/dopekanna
Summary: Kisame Hoshigaki, wandering ronin with a peculiar katana, gets into a fight, has lunch, and then immediately gets into another fight.
Relationships: Hoshigaki Kisame/Uchiha Itachi
Series: Naruto AU Week 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150949
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31
Collections: Naruto AU Week 2021





	ronin-san

**Author's Note:**

> Additional TW: blood and gore, sword fights, language

Kisame sliced through the ronin’s stomach with his katana, a clean cut through flesh and organ spilling his enemy’s guts on the forest floor. Samehada was hungry for blood today, he could tell, and the rival band of ronin that tried to ambush him on the road were eager prey for her. She sang through her bandages and ripped off the head of another ronin, sending it flying through the trees.

“Who wants some more? I’ve got plenty to spare,” Kisame cackled, baring his sharp teeth in a feral grin. The other ronin backed away, and the leader of their ragged band paled once he saw the wrapped blade.

“Kisame Hoshigaki of the Seven Swordsmen? I thought you were only a legend,” he said.

“No, I’m as real as they get,” Kisame growled, easing into a fighting stance, “Fight me, if you still honor the code, or lay down your swords and flee with your lives.”

The ronin behind their leader immediately hightailed it out of there, but their leader remained. He drew his sword, widening his stance.

“I, Hikaru Takahashi, once Lord Takahashi, once loyal retainer of the shogun, challenge you to a duel.”

“Kisame Hoshigaki, once Hoshigaki of the Seven Swordsmen, once retainer of Lord Yagura, accepts your challenge.”

The forest was silent as both men held their blades. Then the wind rustled the leaves in the trees, and they sped forward, Takahashi raising his sword above his head, Kisame keeping it low and horizontal. They both slashed at each other, and in a second it was over. Kisame looked down at Samehada, her bandages greedily soaking in Takahashi’s blood. The other samurai collapse to the ground, a long slash diagonal through his torso.

Takahashi coughed, something unintelligible gurgling through his throat as his blood quickly pooled under him, and his body relaxed with his final breath. Kisame grunted his assent and walked past the quickly cooling corpse, leaping over the blood, and back on the road headed east. The ronin had delayed him, and he wanted to be at an inn by sundown.

He walked along the empty road, keeping an ear out for any more opportunistic bandits. He’d seen many more of them prowling the roads in recent weeks than he had in a long while – whispers of discontent with the shogun for hoarding land and power for himself were growing louder and louder as more and more lords lost their lands and had to dismiss their retainers. The roads were full of dangerous ronin these days – and Kisame was one of the most dangerous of them all.

It had been a few hours after his duel that he found a little roadside tea stall with a few wooden benches lining the road. He placed his order of tea and grilled fish and sat on a bench, stretching his long legs. It would be another few hours until the nearest town, and he’d rather get there without cramps.

A woman in a pale pink kimono came up the road, also headed east, placed her order at the stall, and sat beside him, her _uchikatsugi_ hiding her face from his view. Kisame glanced down at her; most single women on the road weren’t particularly wealthy, but this one was dressed in finery he hadn’t seen since he worked for Yagura. No bodyguards or orderlies in sight though – a rich woman traveling on her own in ronin country? How was she still alive?

“It’s a nice day,” she said suddenly, her voice barely a singsong whisper, and Kisame blinked a few times before he realized she was talking to him.

“Um, yes, it is, uh…hime?” he said slowly. The woman giggled and shook her head.

“Where are you headed, samurai-san?” she asked, turning towards him. She cocked her head; the veil opened slightly, and Kisame saw a single, dark, beautiful, curious eye framed by a lock of black hair stare back at him. He gulped.

“The capital. I have to…meet someone there,” he said, quickly looking away to hide his rising blush and avoiding the part where he was going to find Yagura and stab that traitorous bastard to death.

“What a coincidence. So am I,” the woman said, narrowing her eyes in thought. Kisame was about to ask her who she was meeting and maybe would she like a bodyguard for the journey when the stall owner placed a plate of grilled fish, a plate of dango, and two cups of tea between them. Kisame and the woman thanked her, and Kisame raised his eyebrows at the woman’s choice of meal.

“Dango before dinner?” he asked as he picked up the plate of fish and chopsticks, and she laughed again.

“I’ve always been weak for sweets,” she admitted, and Kisame snorted at her honesty. They ate in comfortable silence. Kisame glanced down occasionally when the woman took a bite of her dango. She would lower her head and use a hand to push open the veil, slipping the hand holding the skewer of dango past the veil to eat in privacy. He was trying _not_ to be rude, but no one would fault him for being curious at the very least.

They were both finishing up their tea when a loud, swaggering crowd of ruffians came rambling down the road headed west. Half of them were drunk, and the rest pranced about like they owned the forest. The leader of the bunch, a burly man almost as tall as Kisame noticed the woman, and Kisame narrowed his eyes at the leer that flickered across the man’s face. He kept drinking his tea, but he moved one hand closer to his swords. Samehada was full, but Fuguki, his less literally bloodthirsty blade, could use some sharpening.

“Now isn’t this a nice surprise? A little noble lady all by herself in these woods? Don’t you know that there are big, bad ronin wandering around?” the ronin leader cackled, sauntering up to them. The woman had her cup of tea in her hands, and Kisame saw her fingers tighten around the cup. He moved his hand closer to his swords.

“I am aware, thank you for your concern, ronin-san,” she said sweetly and with no sincerity. Kisame almost snickered, but he kept his face straight.

“But hime, you’re sitting right next to one of those good-for-nothings!” the ruffian said, pointing to Kisame, and the rest of his group laughed at their boss’s joke. “Who knows what he’s done to other nice, noble folk like you who’ve walked in his path! Dead in a ditch, probably! Hime, come with us, we’ll protect you and make it worth your while.”

“I am capable of taking care of myself, ronin-san.”

“I insist, hime, you must come with us!” the ronin said, a little more aggressively, and he knocked the tea out of her hands and onto Kisame’s lap. Kisame growled, and the other ronin began to approach him, drawing their swords. The ronin leader snatched the woman’s hands into his own in a tight grip, and Kisame swore he felt the temperature drop around them despite the heat of the sun above.

“You’ll be coming with us, hime,” the ronin leader said with no humor, yanking the woman up and toppling her hat off her head, but Kisame drew Fuguki and held it to the ronin’s neck. He could see one of the woman’s eyes reflected in the blade, tight in fury.

“Let her go if you want to live,” he growled, but the leader laughed in his face.

“You and what army?” he mocked, and Kisame felt Samehada vibrate against his hip, eager to bite into willing flesh. He smirked; she was such a bloodthirsty little monster, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He eyed the ronin surrounding them – maybe 10 in all, some of them swaying on their feet, the rest slowly approaching him with swords drawn. Kisame drew his other sword, held it easily at his side.

“Don’t need one,” he cackled and the ronin leader screamed as Kisame slit his throat open with a swift stroke. The other bandits charged on him, but between his twin blades and raw strength, they didn’t have a chance. He spun around with both blades in his hands, and within seconds, all the ronin were dead or dying on the road, limbs or heads detached and innards cooling on the dirt path. He sheathed Fuguki and reattached Samehada beside it, and then he remembered the woman. He turned around and –

She was kneeling on the ground, trying her best to avoid getting blood on her kimono as she picked up her _uchikatsugi_ , but its veil was half soaked in blood. She sighed and looked up at him and Kisame saw her full face for the first time. She was young, probably in her early 20s; her red painted lips were tight in a grimace on her face painted white, and he watched her swallow a breath as she gingerly tried to rip off the bloody end of her veil without getting it on her kimono. The makeup could only hide the deep lines surrounding her nose though, what were they called again –

 _Wait a minute_ , Kisame thought, _only one family has that face_.

“Are you – “ Kisame began, but an ecstatic cheer interrupted them. The stall owner skipped around the bodies and shoved a bag of fish jerky and a wooden talisman into Kisame’s hands.

“Fuck, I hated those bastards. Good riddance,” she cackled, kicking the halfway severed head of the ronin leader, “They always tore up this place and cheated me on my money. Anyways, you two don’t worry about the mess, I’ll get it out of the road. Ma’am, I can give you some cloth to replace your veil, and if you’d like, you can have a serving of dango on the house for your troubles.”

“That would be much appreciated,” the woman said, bowing to her.

“And you, samurai-san, in the next town east down this road, there’s a bounty office run by the shogunate. Hand that talisman in, tell them you got rid of the Bloody Brothers, and you’ll get quite the reward. Make sure you tell ‘em Tenten sent you too, okay?”

“Will do,” Kisame said with a grin, stuffing the bag of jerky into his pack. He watched the stall owner hum happily as she trotted back to her stall to cook up another batch of dango, and when she was out of sight he knelt by the body of the ronin leader, inspecting the corpse’s arms.

“You know, I told him to let go of you out of courtesy,” he said, holding up one the dead man’s broken wrists. “I knew he was dead the moment he touched you.”

“Really now,” the woman said with no emotion, “And how did you know that?”

“Well, he pissed me off with the way he was talking to you, so he was good as dead on that front, but it was really the killing intent coming from you. How many people have you killed before?”

“Not enough, and not the right ones,” she hissed. Kisame laughed and stood up, walking over to her. He stopped right in front of her; she was tall by most standards, but Kisame towered at least half a foot above her. He leaned down, one hand on his katanas, but the woman did not back off or bring the hidden blade in her right sleeve to his neck.

“You too? Well then, like should know like, right? Kisame Hoshigaki, former retainer to Lord Yagura of Kirigakure. I’m on my way to the capital to kill Yagura for framing me for one of his assassination attempts on the shogun. And how about you, hime?”

He bowed dramatically, and the woman in front of studied him carefully. Finally, she spoke in a low voice.

“Itachi Uchiha, eldest descendant of the deceased Lord Fugaku Uchiha and Lady Mikoto Uchiha. I’m traveling to the capital to kill the man who ordered my clan to be murdered and took my little brother hostage.”

Kisame’s eyes widened. It was widely known no one had survived the Uchiha massacre, but Itachi _did_ look a lot like Mikoto. And the man who had profited most from that massacre, who’d gotten the most land out of it was…

You want a piece of Lord Shimura? Good choice, I always thought he was sketchy,” Kisame said, standing up back to his full height, nodding in agreement.

“He will die painfully,” Itachi said sweetly, painted lips curling up into a small smile, and Kisame felt a shiver go down his back. He wasn’t sure if it was because of that pretty, delicate face with a red smile, or because Itachi was giving off even more killing intent than before. Interest and fear were starting to mix in new and interesting ways and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Ma’am, I’ve got your new veil and dango!” Tenten said, ignoring the mood and snatching the hat out of Itachi’s hands to replace the bloody cloth with a fresh new white veil. She quickly handed it back to Itachi, dropped the plate of fresh dango on the bench, and walked away to start hauling the ronin’s bodies into the forest. Itachi put on the _uchikatsugi_ again, but left the veil open and started eating. Kisame looked back down at his new acquaintance, considering his plan of action.

“Uchiha-sama, are you perhaps in the market for a bodyguard?” Kisame asked innocently.

“I am capable of taking care of myself, Hoshigaki-san.”

“Yes, I’m aware, but wouldn’t it look more natural if a hime was traveling through these woods with a big and scary bodyguard? I’ve heard there are nasty ronin prowling these woods.”

Itachi was silent for a moment, then looked up at Kisame with an annoyed frown.

“I’ll also help you feed Dango his own entrails,” Kisame said, smiling cheerfully with all his teeth. He _definitely_ did not miss the Uchiha’s startle and very faint blush.

“…Fine. You’re hired,” Itachi said, pouting and biting off the last of the dango. “Let us be off.”

“At once, Uchiha-sama,” Kisame said with a bow, and he walked besides Itachi down the long road headed east, their backs to the setting sun.

**Author's Note:**

> I am very interested in concrit regarding how Itachi was portrayed, especially if you are transgender, and even more so if you are a transgender girl/woman. I've been heavily debating the morality of having a character crossdress as a means of getting closer to a target for assassination because I'm afraid that it might have implications that related to a certain four letter transphobic trope, which I **absolutely** do not want to propagate.


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